


been thinking you should stay

by delayofgame



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Cowboy AU, M/M, This is very sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-01 21:45:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19186036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delayofgame/pseuds/delayofgame
Summary: “The thing you need to know about Danton,” Charlie says, “is that he’s really an open book if you’re paying attention. Just ‘cause he doesn’t talk doesn’t mean he isn’t telling you something. Lotta folks just don’t have the patience, I guess, but it seems like you do.”





	been thinking you should stay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fridgefish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fridgefish/gifts).



> kureinen spinoff of fridgefish’s cowboy au ([black gold](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19048861))! please read it if you haven't already, it's amazing and i probably didn't do it justice with this.
> 
> the title is from all shades of blue by gregory alan isakov.

“Howdy.”

Sean nearly drops the box of nails he’s holding. He doesn’t recognize the voice, and when he turns around he realizes why that is. 

Danton looks just like he usually does; face half-hidden by his hat, jacket collar popped, skin standing out stark white against black leather. His hands are clasped in front of him and he keeps twisting them, almost like he’s nervous. Sean notices Chris and Charlie watching from across the way. 

“I didn't know you could talk,” Sean says. 

Danton shrugs. “When I want to.” 

Sean lets out a laugh louder than he intended. Danton has a nice voice, if a little unusual, deep and even-toned. There’s almost a novelty in hearing it, having it directed toward him. Sean hasn’t seen Danton approaching anyone else in town. Hell, he hasn’t even seen Danton say this much to Charlie. 

“Didya come over here to help me tidy the wares, or what?” Sean jokes. “I’m not done work until sundown.”

“Oh.” Danton’s gaze sweeps over the cluttered shelves. “Okay.”

Sean’s eyes widen in surprise. He’d been kidding, of course the mysterious out-of-towner with the knife in his belt and the cool expression wouldn’t be interested in busy work at the general store. Sean always thought he could read people well, but it throws him for a loop when Danton kneels to pick a box up off the floor and places it neatly on the shelf. 

“Thanks,” Sean says. 

He’d expected Danton to leave with the others right after they ran the Flyers out of town and finished cleaning up the aftermath. Backes had proved helpful during repairs, able to lift entire wooden beams by himself and willing to work tirelessly from dawn to dusk even when Torey begged him to rest and try the lemonade that the Bergerons made. He also had a way with even the most stubborn mares. Cliffy was popular with the children, doing lasso tricks and telling them outlandish stories about the frontier. Still, when the time came, Backes and Cliffy both bid their goodbyes. 

Danton stays. He moves into the apartment above Marchand’s restaurant, small and dusty with a window overlooking the main street. After Danton had saved Chris’s life, Torey had appointed him as sheriff's deputy. _An honorary title_ , Torey had said, but when it became obvious that Danton was sticking around, Torey had started taking the position seriously. He gives Danton odd jobs around town. Not necessarily related to the sheriff’s office, but important nonetheless. Brad even recruits him as “security” (mostly standing at the bar and intimidating the patrons so that they don’t take the more expensive liquor) on Friday nights when the restaurant turns into a dance hall. Sometimes, when Sean is up on stage playing his banjo along with the rest of the makeshift band, he catches Danton’s eye from across the room.

Most of the townsfolk don’t seem to really know how to interact with Danton. He hovers around the outskirts of social situations, seemingly content to be left alone. It makes the fact that he approached Sean, _talked_ to him, even more significant. 

Sean likes it. Danton is a grounding presence; he picks up heavy boxes, rearranges things by price or type or color, and he doesn’t say anything because he doesn’t need to. Sean talks enough for the both of them.

They quickly develop a routine. Danton shows up during the latter half of Sean’s shifts at the store and helps him with whatever odd jobs he’s been assigned, from sweeping to shelving to painting the facade. Sean fills him in on the _goings-on and happenings_ (as he calls them) around town, almost as a trade-off. Danton seems content to listen. 

“Moore’s new farmhand is from _the coast_ ,” Sean says as he drags a sack of flour across the floor. “Keeps talking about how he misses swimming in the ocean. Who knows why he came out here in the first place if he hates the plains so much. Don't they hire farmhands on the coast?”

He looks at Danton expectantly. 

“I’d imagine so,” Danton obliges. 

“Anyway, I told Liz she should tell him he can go swim in the north river,” Sean continues. “S’ dried up now, of course, but he’ll find that out soon enough.”

Danton is a good listener. He doesn’t usually say anything in response, but it does seem like he cares. Sean often finds himself watching Danton’s face, the way he opens his eyes in surprise or furrows his brow or lets out small half-chuckles depending on what Sean tells him. It’s almost unbearably endearing. 

Sean has to catch himself sometimes. He has to stop with his hands hovering right above Danton’s shoulder, with slightly-too-affectionate words at the tip of his tongue. He doesn’t know what Danton wants or how he feels. He seems like the type to shy away when someone comes on too strong, and Sean is nothing if not _forward_. 

_Coyle would know_ , Sean thinks after the third or fourth time he notices Charlie watching his interactions with Danton. He always seem to disappear after sundown, though, and a number of days go by before Sean finally drops everything to seek him out.

━━━━━━━━

The quickest way to find Charlie, Sean has found out, is to find Chris.

They’ve been almost inseparable since the fight with the Flyers. _Making up for lost time,_ someone had muttered after a town meeting when the two of them sat so close that they were practically in each other’s laps. Everyone is happy for them, of course; the whole town loves Chris and it’s clear as day how his smiles have gotten wider and his mood has gotten sunnier since Charlie stuck around. 

As he expected, Sean finds Charlie on the front porch of Chris’s house. He's leaning back in a rocking chair and tapping his boots against the wood slats. There's a red kerchief around his neck, faded and fraying at the edges but tied in a perfect knot. 

“Hi, Charlie,” Sean calls out. 

Charlie sits up and blinks against the early afternoon sun. “Sean! Good to see ya, kid. What’s goin’ on?”

Sean walks up the steps onto the porch. He loses his nerve for a moment, faced with one of Danton’s closest friends, someone who would understand the implications of what he was asking. Then Charlie gives him an easy smile as if he can sense Sean’s worry. He’s a good man, always helping people around the town. He’s trustworthy.

“I just wanted to ask you about Danton,” Sean says. He leans against the porch railing and brushes dust off of his shoulder. 

Approaching footsteps make Sean look up before he can read Charlie’s reaction. 

“I’ve got the drinks, babe.” Chris appears in the doorway with a glass in each hand. He smiles when he notices Sean. 

“Hiya, Sean, what's going on?” Chris asks. He hands one of the drinks to Charlie. “Are you thirsty?”

“I'm all set, thanks,” Sean replies. “I was just asking Charlie a couple things.”

Charlie smirks. “He’s asking about _Danton_.”

Chris and Charlie share a knowing look, and Sean wonders just how obvious he's been about his crush. Danton’s probably noticed, too, with his luck. 

“The thing you need to know about Danton,” Charlie says, “is that he’s really an open book if you’re paying attention. Just ‘cause he doesn’t talk doesn’t mean he isn’t telling you something. Lotta folks just don’t have the patience, I guess, but it seems like you do.”

Sean nods. “‘Course. He’s good company.”

“Listen, I know it’s tough being honest.” Charlie looks up at Sean earnestly. “I’ve been around this kid for years, and I know what he’s like when he wants something. Whatever you mean to tell him, you should.”

Sean drags the toe of his boot through the dust. Charlie’s right, but Sean always finds himself freezing up when he’s around Danton. His life must seem incredibly boring to someone like that, someone who has scared off the meanest of rustlers and killed the baddest of gang leaders. Someone who’s probably made more money off of jobs than Sean has ever seen. Sean has never pretended that his life is a thrill. He must be so sheltered, so naive, so unaccomplished to someone like Danton. 

“How’d you meet Danny, anyway?” Chris asks.

Sean pushes his internal monologue aside. _This_ , he has to hear. 

“I was young, probably only twenty,” Charlie begins. “Making good money, but still lacking in experience. I got hired to fight off this lone bandit who kept riding into this little town at night, pilfering anything he could find. He attacked a preacher when he caught him trying to break into his house. It was real dire, the town was scared, so I thought I’d come in and play the hero.

“I rode in one evening when I’d been told he was probably coming. I posted up in front of the town hall, holsters on each hip, kerchief over half my face. That was back when I thought I could keep my identity a secret. I really felt like a big shot, I’ll tell ‘ya. I was stupid back then.

“He got the element of surprise on me. Knocked me right off my horse and pointed a gun in my face. Before I even knew to be scared to die, he was dead as a doornail with a knife in his chest. I looked up, and this skinny kid in a hat so big you could hardly see his face was standing five yards away or so. He saved my life.”

Sean’s eyes are wide. It feels like a story his mom would tell him when he was a kid with a wild imagination, like something he’d act out with the other children after school. 

Charlie continues. “I figured pretty quick that he didn’t talk much, but I was able to find out that he was sixteen and living on his own, trying to make money. I told him knife skills like that could guarantee he wouldn’t ever have to worry about money again.”

“It’s hard, to tell a kid like that that he can k-” Charlie stops for a moment, as if he’s upset. “That he can do _jobs_ to get by. I guess that’s why I’m protective of him. It’s my fault he’s here in the first place.”

Chris reaches over and grabs his hand. “Don’t feel guilty, Charlie.”

Sean’s chest feels tight. He tries to imagine Danton as a teenager, alone but still so skilled, so dangerous. As hard as it is for him to think about that, he knows it’s harder for Charlie. 

“It’s the same knife, you know.” Charlie’s tone changes. “The one he uses now, it’s the same as the one he used to save me. He doesn’t go anywhere without that knife. He sleeps with the thing at his hip. I swear, I’ve never seen him without it in arm’s reach.”

Sean isn’t sure why Charlie brings it up, but it seems significant. He files it away somewhere in his mind where he might find it later.

━━━━━━━━

Over the years, Sean has determined that the hayloft of Chara’s barn is objectively the best place to practice his music. It’s quiet and isolated, near the edge of town so nobody hears him no matter how loud he sings. Music isn’t a money-making profession in this part of the west. The towns are too far apart, and the settlers work too hard for too little to enjoy songs about lovers and heartache. Still, nothing calms Sean down quite like taking his banjo up to the rafters and playing his heart out.

Sean is plucking absentmindedly at the strings when he sees movement in the corner of his vision. He looks up and is met with a pair of sharp blue eyes shaded by the brim of a black ten gallon.

“Hey there, Danton,” Sean says, straightening up and resting his banjo on his thigh. Danton’s head is sticking up through the hole in the hayloft floor where the ladder rests. 

Danton gives a nod of greeting. He pulls himself up and sits down a few feet away from Sean. 

“How’d you find me?” Sean asks. He always thought he’d feel worse about someone interrupting him in his- _hideout_ , of sorts- but he mostly just feels his face heating up and his heart beating a bit faster. A common reaction to Danton’s presence, apparently. 

Danton’s face goes about as red as Sean’s feels. “I, uh… I asked Chris. About where I could find you.”

“Oh.” Sean feels hopeful for a moment. Danton _asked about him_. He asked _Chris_ , no less, who already seemed to know that something was going on between them. 

Danton eyes Sean’s banjo. “You write songs?”

Sean tries not to preen. “Oh, sometimes, yeah. Not like I play ‘em for anyone, though.”

Danton takes the bait. “I’ll listen.”

Sean plays his favorite, the one he wrote while watching the sun rise over the river valley. It isn’t a happy song, but it isn’t lonely. He likes to think that it’s hopeful. His voice isn’t great, he knows that, but he puts his heart into it. 

Danton is smiling like Sean’s never seen. His heartbeat goes wacky, too fast and then too slow, and he’s pretty sure he’s never wanted to kiss someone so badly in his life. 

He doesn’t. He keeps plucking at his banjo, and Danton leans back against a hay bale and closes his eyes.

━━━━━━━━

Torey calls a town meeting early one morning. Everyone gathers before the town hall steps under the clear, blue sky. Torey and Charlie are standing at the top. Sean stands near the front of the crowd, next to Jake, who gives him a friendly smile.

Torey clears his throat, and everyone goes quiet.

“As some of you know, we’re having an oil rig built a few miles west of town,” Torey says. “It’ll be real good for us, we can make a lot of money off it when we get it up and running. And if this one does well, I’ve already mapped out a few areas where we can build others.”

A murmur goes through the crowd, and everyone seems pleased. Money is always tight in a town like theirs, but even the youngest ones know the worth of oil. 

Charlie speaks next. “My friend Backes helped us find some men to help build the rig. They’re good men, hard workers, and we trust them.”

“We need someone to ride out and check up on them,” Torey continues. “Just survey the progress of the rig and make sure the men have everything they need. It won’t take more than a day; if you leave by sunrise you should be back before dusk. I know a lot of you are busy now that summer’s in full swing, so I figured I might as well ask for a volunteer.”

Sean briefly considers. It could be fun to ride out to the rig site, to pack a lunch and take a day off from sweeping and tidying shelves. He doesn't have a horse of his own, but he rode quite a bit growing up, and Chara’s horses know him well. It would certainly be an exciting change.

Before he can raise his hand, someone beats him to it.

“Danton!” Charlie calls out. “Sure thing.”

Sean turns around, and sure enough, Danton is standing at the edge of the crowd with his hand in the air. 

“He's only been here a couple weeks and he's already the sheriff’s favorite,” Jake says, rolling his eyes at Torey who is absolutely _beaming_. 

Sean gives him a light punch on the shoulder. “Don't be jealous, Jake. I'm sure you'll save the town someday and we’ll all parade you around on our shoulders and chant your name.”

Torey adjourns the meeting. As Sean starts to walk away, he overhears Charlie and Torey talking.

“It’s far enough that we should probably send someone with him,” Torey says. “Just for safety’s sake.”

Charlie nods. “You’ll have to work to convince Danton of that, though.”

“I’ll go,” Sean pipes up, so eager that he feels an immediate wave of embarrassment. His face goes even redder when Torey raises his eyebrows at him.

“Don’t think Danny would argue with that.” Charlie winks.

Torey doesn't seem to entirely understand the implication. “Sean, you know I love you, but you’re not exactly what I envision when I think about protection.”

“Not _protection_ ,” Sean argues. “Just company. I could bring my banjo, I could make sandwiches!”

Charlie gives an encouraging nod. “Dan doesn’t need protection, I promise you that.”

Torey softens at that, smiling fondly. “Alright, Sean. Company, it is.”

━━━━━━━━

They saddle up so early in the morning that the sky is still grey. Sean has the sandwiches he’d made the night before wrapped up in paper and tucked in his saddlebag. Chara is lending him a beautiful bay mare named Annie, her tail plaited and her mane done up neatly in hunter’s braids. Sean slings the strap attached to his banjo over his shoulder and hops up onto the saddle.

Danton is wearing the knife holster he’d used during the fight with the flyers, a black leather bandolier that rests diagonally across his body and holds six deadly-sharp blades. His mount is Ace, a dapple gray gelding belonging to Torey. 

They leave right as the sun begins to peek over the horizon.

The ride is mostly quiet. Sean navigates with the map that Torey had given him, using a small compass and checking the horizon every few minutes. When the oil rig appears in the distance, they quicken to a gallop and fly over the plains side by side. 

They check the progress and talk to some of the workers, and everything seems to be going well. The sandwiches are a big hit when they eat lunch seated on a stack of wooden beams. Time passes quickly as they watch the men work, sweating in the heat but not so much that they’re uncomfortable. By the time they get back on their horses, their faces are shiny and red and plastered with smiles. 

There shouldn’t be anything different about the ride back, but Sean feels uneasy. There’s something ominous about the sky, too dark for late afternoon despite the lack of clouds. Sean really starts to trust his intuition when the wind picks up after a mile or so. 

“Oh, _shoot_ ,” Danton says. His horse stops dead in its tracks. 

Sean turns around to see what he’s reacting to. 

There’s a wall of reddish dust that seems to be about a hundred feet high sitting on the horizon. The sky has turned orange in its wake, and Sean can already feel the air quality dropping. Small dust storms are common near their settlement, the type you hunker down inside for an hour with the windows closed to get through, but this is shaping up to be the worst Sean has ever seen. 

Danton grabs one of the canteens hanging off of his saddle and uncaps it, then takes the kerchief from around his neck and drips water over it. He gestures for Sean to do the same.

“Hold it over your mouth and nose when it gets bad,” Danton says. His eyes are wide but he seems to know what to do, and it occurs to Sean that Danton hasn’t had the privilege of living in a settlement for his whole life. He’s surely had to do this before.

When Danton secures his canteen to his saddle, he looks at Sean again. “You know any places we could go?”

Sean’s mind goes blank for a moment. The storm is getting closer, dimming the sunlight and making it feel like dusk already. 

“Oh!” he cries out suddenly. “There’s an abandoned settlement east of here! There’s quite a bit of fire damage, but-”

“That’ll do,” Danton interrupts. He urges his horse forward as if he knows exactly where to go, and Sean follows him helplessly. 

By some miracle, they come upon the abandoned settlement before visibility is completely wiped out. Most of the buildings are burned-out, roofs caved-in and windows shattered decades earlier. The church at the end of the main street, however, seems to be mostly intact. Danton dismounts his horse when they reach the steps.

The door is heavy, but unlocked. Danton forces it open and urges his horse through it, then practically drags Sean inside with his horse in tow. The door slams shut behind them. 

The church has held up well over the years. A few of the pews are broken or rotting, and the floor has a layer of dust so thick their boots leave prints, but the windows are closed and sealed and the altar looks just like the one back home. The air is stale but certainly a step up from what they’d been breathing outside. 

Sean sits and takes in a few gulping breaths. “Thanks, Danton.”

Danton cocks his head as if to say _for what_? As if he didn’t just save their lives, getting them to the settlement without a moment’s hesitation. 

The church is peaceful despite the sound of the wind outside. Danton’s horse has made his way into the sanctuary, his hoof-falls echoing through the church. Sean’s horse seems content to sit with her legs folded up under herself behind a row of pews. 

“This storm is gonna last a while,” Sean observes. “May as well settle in.”

Danton lays down his bandolier and takes an additional two knives out of holsters around his calves. He stops for a long moment as if he’s pondering something, then pulls out the knife from the sheath on his belt. He spreads them out over the floorboards. 

“Quite a collection there,” Sean says, and he hears the nervousness in his voice. 

Danton shrugs, his expression staying neutral. 

“How many people have you killed?” Sean asks on impulse, then immediately feels a wave of guilt when Danton’s expression goes dark. “Sorry.”

“Don’t ‘zactly keep a tally,” Danton mutters. 

They change the subject after that. They talk through the evening (Sean does, mostly), about everything and nothing. It’s easy to talk to Danton, and Sean feels like he’s never been able to open up to someone so quickly. He talks about his parents, about how he came to love music, about what it’s like to live in the same settlement for his whole life. 

“Have you ever played?” Sean asks after Danton picks up his banjo and turns it over in his hands as if he’s checking its quality. 

Danton shakes his head. “No. Never picked up many hobbies.”

“Why?”

Danton pauses, introspective. “The more you’ve got, the more what you’ve got has got you.”

Sean has no idea what he means. He doesn’t ask for an explanation. 

The air still stings Sean’s eyes, but the wind has quieted down significantly. The church brightens as the moon re-appears from behind a cloud and light streams in through the windows. It’s peaceful, somehow. Ace lets out a soft sound from where he’s sleeping in the aisle. 

Sean feels his eyelids begin to droop. He leans over and rests his head on Danton’s shoulder without really thinking about it. 

Danton doesn’t pull away.

━━━━━━━━

They arrive back home a few hours after sunrise. A small group is waiting by the town entrance, and the relief on their faces is apparent.

Chris nearly tackles Sean in a hug the moment he gets off his horse. “You had us scared to death.”

“We’re okay,” Sean reassures him. “Just got caught up in a dust storm.”

“It passed through here just after dark,” Torey says. “We thought you were stranded, we were about to send someone out looking when Chara spotted you on the horizon.”

“I’m lucky I had Danton with me,” Sean says.

Danton is standing a few feet away, his hand rubbing back and forth along Ace’s neck. He stays quiet as everyone else fusses over Sean. 

Charlie appears, apparently having been awoken after Sean and Danton returned. “The heroes have returned! I knew you guys would be okay. Danton and I have been caught in our fair share of storms over the years.”

“He knew exactly what to do.” Sean smiles. “I always feel safe with him.”

Danton’s face turns red, redder than Sean’s ever seen, and before anyone can say another word he disappears into the crowd.

━━━━━━━━

Chara’s barn is dark and quiet when Sean pulls the door open.

“Danton,” Sean calls out. “Are you in here? Danny?”

He doesn’t get a response, but a feeling in his gut makes him grab the rungs of the ladder up to the hayloft. He’s exhausted after a day of riding, and his arms shake as he pulls himself up. Sure enough, as his head emerges through the hole in the floorboards, he sees Danton sitting in the shadow of a stack of hay bales. 

Sean sits down beside him. “I thought you might be up here. Are you okay?”

Danton doesn’t respond. His hands are curled in his lap, and he taps his heels nervously against the floor. 

“I really am thankful for you,” Sean goes on. “I always have been, not just yesterday. I’m sorry if I embarrassed you in front of half the town.”

Once he starts talking it’s as if he can’t stop. “I just did a lot of thinking last night, and today while we were riding back. About myself, and my job, and my music, and how one of those is important to me and the other isn’t, even though one of them makes a living and the other doesn’t. 

And I thought about you, too. About us.”

Danton finally looks up at him, his expression open and honest, and Sean can’t stop himself this time.

Sean grabs Danton’s jacket by the collar and tugs him into a kiss. Danton goes easily, kissing back with an urgency that makes Sean shiver. The hay is rough against Sean’s back but he’s so focused on the way Danton is melting into him that he can hardly feel it. 

It occurs to Sean as he’s leaning back to gasp for air that this is his first kiss. He’s probably awful, too messy and desperate and uncoordinated, but Danton is making small noises against his lips and his eyes are closed and his hands are running up and down Sean’s sides. 

At some point, Sean ends up in Danton’s lap. Danton unclips his knife sheath from his belt and slides it across the wood slats, far enough that it won’t be in the way. Out of arm's reach, Sean notes. He gets overwhelmed with the feeling of being trusted until Danton wraps a strong arm around his waist and everything else flies right out of his mind.

━━━━━━━━

The Friday night dance is more crowded than usual. Even Patrice and Stephanie, usually the _early to bed, early to rise_ types, are dressed up in their dancing clothes and twirling around the restaurant.

Sean keeps making eye contact with Danton from across the room. The tips of his fingers throb from playing for so long, and he’s been itching to ask for a dance all night. It’s somewhat intimidating to think about letting the whole town know about him and Danton (not that he knows exactly where they stand, anyway), but Charlie keeps walking up to the stage and muttering something about _going for it_. 

Jake has begun a dramatic accordion solo that doesn’t seem like it’s ending soon, so Sean sets his banjo down and hops off the stage. Danton hasn’t moved from his spot by the bar.

“Wanna dance?” Sean asks.

Danton glances over to where Brad is standing at the end of the bar. Brad looks between the two of them, smiles fondly, and waves them on. 

“I think he’s giving you permission to leave your post,” Sean adds, holding his arm out as if to escort Danton to the dance floor.

Danton’s face breaks into a smile. He hooks his arm around Sean’s and lets him lead him up to the base of the stage. They’re uncoordinated, and neither of them know the dances very well, but they get a smattering of applause when they finish an energetic two-step. Chris and Charlie are positively beaming from the crowd. 

Sean reaches out and takes Danton’s hand. The whole room is looking at them, and he doesn’t have it in his mind to care.

Danton lets out a chuckle. He grips Sean’s hand tighter.

“What?” Sean asks, so quiet he can barely hear himself over the music.

“Your hand is sweaty,” Danton says. “That’s all.”

Sean can't hold back his grin. “Yet you’re holding it anyway.”

Danton pulls him close and rests his chin on Sean’s shoulder. They sway back and forth, breathing slowly, relaxing as the music switches to something slower tempo.

“Yeah.” Danton sighs. “I am.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! comments make my day :)


End file.
